The Wanderer of the Valley
by OpalOcean
Summary: Rodaìn, a young woman, has run away from home and spends her days aimlessly traveling. One day, the fellowship happens upon her. As Rodaìn reluctantly begins to trust, the company finds out more about this strange and anxiuos woman as secrets unravel.
1. Cloaked in Mystery

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any of the characters or the world of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

She clambered over the dirt-covered rocks. Her feet continued to plod over the grassy landscape, tired and worn-over with blisters and scratches. Rodaìn limped slightly due to the poor condition of her feet. Earlier in her travels, her gray and white horse had collapsed after falling down a sudden rock-face. Unfortunately, she had to leave him behind due to her lack of healing skills and his two broken legs. It saddened her, but she had nowhere to turn back to.

Rodaìn's tense senses picked up the faint sounds of footsteps and rustling. She quickly turned around and her eyes noted figures not far behind herself. She whirled around, her feet shuffling in a haphazard direction. Her bulky brown cloak flapped with the hurried movements. _I must hide. I cannot be seen, not now. _

She managed to find a small grove of trees which she stumbled into. Frantically spinning around, Rodaìn found a tree that she could climb up, to hide from searching eyes. She was hyperventilating. She was panicking.

Rodaìn could not see well through the leafy foliage, but the noises grew louder over the conflict with the other noises of the valley. Peering through, she counted three definite figures, but there were an uncountable number of others traversing through the high grass. Rodaìn stayed silent and bit her lip, hard, in an attempt to control her breathing. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the tree branch she was perched on. Rodaìn waited in violent anxiety for the travelers to pass by.

"Legolas, I see no figure upon this hill. Did you notice where it may have gone off to?" a messy, dark brown-haired ranger questioned another figure as he sauntered up the hill, just to the right of the tree grove.

"I know not. Perhaps we should survey the area," a blonde elf suggested. Rodaìn had seen many elves during her stay at Rivendell, and had almost grown used to their beauty. However, they possessed an individual aura, one that never failed to stun her at every sight. Due to the light hair color and green garb, she assumed this elf hailed from Mirkwood.

Her body started to shake as she bit her lip harder at hearing their plan. _ Oh no. Can't be found. I cannot be found. Not back. Oh no. Not now._

Her breathing picked up again. She was on the verge of a panic attack. One of her fingers snapped a twig at the the sudden increase of pressure place upon it. The elf's head whipped towards the trees and Rodaìn held her trembling body still as best as she could. It was a poor attempt.

The elf strung his bow as he slowly advanced._ My bow. Oh no, now how will I avoid death. Then again, maybe it would be for the best._

Still yearning to protect herself, she slid her hand down her boot and gripped the biting metal of her dagger. Taking her bow off her shoulder would attract to much attention, and she had enough unwanted attention placed upon herself at the moment.

The elf halted several feet away from her tree, far enough that she knew her aim with her dagger may prove faulty. His eyes fully scanned her hooded form now, crouched and shaking against the tree branch.

Sticks crunched as the ranger approached her tree as well. She did not know what to do. She knew they each had the ability to outrun her and easily overpower her limited ability with weapons. Rodaìn waited for them to make the next move.

"I ask you to dismount this tree. Come down slowly and drop your dagger right now. We have you outnumbered and I regret to inform you that you do not stand a chance against us. We wish to seek your business in these uncharted lands."

She dropped her dagger, disappointed that she had not been as sneaky as she first thought. Rodaìn climbed down the tree slowly. She was scared. She did not know what they would do to her. One could never trust men, or elves for that matter. With no other choice, she turned to face them.

"I ask that you remove your hood, as we wish to know the identity of the one we question."

Her hand hovered over her mouth, her breaths coming out in a forced calmness so as not to reveal her true state of fright, and clasped the edge of her hood. Rodaìn glanced back up at the ranger, seeing him give her a slight nod at the beginnings of her action. She inhaled a deep breath through her nose, and dropped the hood of her cloak, wholly unprepared for the reaction to this action.


	2. Skittering Protection

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**Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any of the characters or the world of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.**

Rodaìn's gaze flickered to the ranger's eyes, then the elf's, and she registered the surprise in them. It was highly uncommon and improper for a woman to be traveling by herself.

"Milady, I am sorry. Had we known..." the ranger trailed off and gestured between himself and the elf, as the elf lowered his bow.

Rodaìn nodded her head in acknowledgement. She was still nervous and the tremors scurrying around her body would not stop.

"May I ask your name, milady?" the elf politely questioned. He had immediately noticed her shaking form and hurried breaths. She must have been frightened, and now was not the time for her to run off, as she may put herself in more danger.

She nodded her head again, and, after emitting a pitiful squeak, she put a fair amount of force behind her name, "Rodaìn."

"Rodaìn," the ranger repeated. "And where do you hail from?"

Another tremor rocked her body at this question and she lowered her eyes to hide her feelings. The ranger glanced at the elf at this action as they silently shared their observation. "Gondor. I am daughter of Hadlorn." She replied, her voice quaking only slightly on the name of her father. Though it was not necessarily a lie and her appearance followed her Gondorian heritage, Rodaìn was not birthed in Gondor.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Rodaìn of Gondor," the elf nodded to Rodaìn. "I am Legolas of the Mirkwood realm."

She lowered her head in acknowledgement, looking to the ranger for a similar introduction. "I am Aragorn," he replied somewhat gruffly. He did not fully trust this strange and frightened girl yet.

She flinched at his abruptness, taking a small step backwards.

The ranger, Aragorn, countered this movement and stepped forward. Legolas shifted forward as well, concerned at Aragorn's threatening actions. "What is a maiden such as yourself doing traveling alone and on foot? It seems highly improper. Are you lost perhaps? Or are you journeying somewhere?" Aragorn persistently questioned. At this, the elf put a hand on Aragorn's forearm, attempting to calm his friend's edginess.

Rodaìn felt guilty for an unknown reason, as if she believed some odd suspicion that she may be a spy. "I-," she cleared my throat and started again. "I am journeying. To Rohan." Again, another half-lie. She simply needed to restock some supplies before heading off again.

"Well, milady, it is not safe for you to be traveling alone. I ask that you consider accompanying us on a duration of our journey, as we will near Rohan at some point."

Rodaìn picked her feet up and placed them down in anxiousness. She was not comfortable with such an arrangement. Could they not see that?

Legolas, the elf, must have picked up on her unease as he spoke next and tried to reassure the woman. "I assure you, you will be safe with us, Lady Rodaìn. We will do our best to protect you."

"I am not in need of protection," she stuttered out, flustered.

Aragorn and Legolas looked at Rodaìn in shock and she quickly realized the mistake in her outburst. "Please forgive me, I meant no harm. I am sorry for being inconsiderate. I greatly appreciate your offer. I-, I would be glad to accept your offer. I thank you greatly. I beg your forgiveness," she continued rambling. Her posture turned inwards as she guarded herself from an unseen force.

Aragorn put a hand up, halting her rambling. He seemed to finally notice her stress and relaxed his words. "There is no need for apologies, Lady Rodaìn. It is quite all right. Most women seem to beg for such attention and you simply surprised us. It is a bit of a welcome relief, would you not say, Legolas?" The elf nodded his assent, quietly observing the anxious girl. Aragorn seemed warmer now, perhaps due to her frightened posture. He did not like to see women in pain. "We welcome your company. I feel much better now that you plan to join us."

Rodaìn nodded timidly, still unsure of herself and her decision.

"The six other members of our fellowship await just outside these trees. We shall rejoin them now. I apologize again for startling you," Aragorn told her, gently returning her dropped dagger.

Rodaìn pocketed the weapon and followed the man and the elf back into the valley. She was greeted by the sight of another man, a red-haired dwarf, and four small hobbits. Aragorn presented her to the company. "This is Lady Rodaìn of Gondor, daughter of Hadlorn." Rodain's eyes skittered downward at this name again, and Legolas noted the strange response. Aragorn continued on, "Lady Rodaìn, the hobbits are Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Shire. The dwarf is Gimli, son of Glóin, and the man is Boromir, son of Denethor- the steward of Gondor." Aragorn addressed the company now, "Lady Rodaìn will be traveling with us until we reach Rohan. Until that point, I expect that you welcome and treat her with the utmost respect. She is a guest, and a lady, and it is our duty to look out for her."

Rodaìn looked up again at these kind words, never before truly hearing a man talk in such a way. _Surely it is all a fib? Some ploy to get me to trust them. This man seemed hostile earlier, it must be a front._ Rodaìn did not believe such kindness, and, though she greatly appreciated it, she still held tightly to her treasured and cracked gem of trust that had been previously ravaged. Not easily did she trust others, and the same would be held for this new group.

"It is nearing nightfall. I do believe we must set up a camp soon," Boromir quietly observed, pulling the group to a task and out of the silence. Rodaìn shied away from him, this man of Gondor, and inched nearer to the trees yet again.

"Indeed it has," Aragorn agreed absentmindedly as he watched Rodaìn's actions closely. "Let us proceed a bit further until an appropriate camping area is found.

Once they arrived at a clearing near a river, the fellowship dispersed and set about their appropriate jobs in erecting the camp. Lost, Rodaìn aimlessly wandered in circles for a few moments. Settling on an idea, she washed her hands in the river, splashing some drops in a poor attempt to tame a few of her bushy brown curls. Rodaìn sat near the hobbits and the fire they were buildling and took inventory of the cooking supplies. It was much more than she had carried, and she was able to quickly prepare a satisfactory meal, despite the protests from the hobbits that she need not work. The meal greatly appeased all the fellowship's appetites and gained her several compliments to which she replied with embarrassed blushes.

When night fell, Rodaìn set up her sleeping bag as far as safety would allow from the other members of the group. Aragorn had assured her that she need not take over a time slot for guard duty. Despite the distance between herself and the rest of the fellowship, Rodaìn found little comfort in the sleeping situation. She tossed and turned, hoping her struggles of near-sleep and fits in sleep would go unnoticed by the ever-present and ever-changing watchman. Sadly, all did not proceed as hoped.


	3. A Silly Dream

**Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any of the characters or the world of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.**

The hobbits and Gimli had fallen asleep quickly, wearisome from the many days of traveling. Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas sat around the fire, conversing about the new addition to the company.

"She seemed quite frightened to me when you brought her out. Are you sure she will not be too much of a burden?" Boromir asked the group in a hushed voice. "I would not like this mission to be slowed for the sake of an incompetent woman," he muttered as an afterthought.

Aragorn sighed, "I do not know, Boromir." He rubbed a hand over his creased forehead in an attempt to smooth his piling levels of stress. "She does carry a bow with her," he said as the group cast a glance at the figure in the distance. "Perhaps she possesses some skill so as not to burden us too much. However, she is a woman, and we cannot simply leave her here. You must say the meal she cooked was quite good as well."

"So it was. It does appear as if she has been traveling for quite a while," Legolas observed while still looking at Rodaìn.

"Indeed. I do not know how she has fared so well. Her anxiousness and panic were hard to miss when we came upon her," Aragorn wondered.

"Why have a reason to fear us? We are clearly not of the enemy," Boromir brazenly asked.

"Did you notice how she flinched and cast her eyes downwards at the mention of her homeland? I do believe it may have something to do with Gondor," Legolas proposed a potential answer.

Aragorn answered, "I did notice. She seemed to shy away from Boromir as well when he spoke. I do not know why she would have a reason to fear Gondor-"

"There is no safer place than Gondor!" Boromir protectively declared. "It must be some other reason. Perhaps she is simply afraid of the upcoming war. Or mayhaps she misses her family and is homesick."

"Perhaps. I still-" Aragorn was cut off by a whimper.

The group stood up and turned towards Rodaìn's squirming figure. Legolas was already on his feet, silently making his way towards her.

Suddenly, Rodaìn sat up with a gasp. Her arms immediately hugged her cloaked body in a protective position.

"Lady Rodaìn?" Rodaìn's head whipped around at Legolas' questioning voice and strayed swiftly over the rest of the party. However, she quickly turned her head downwards, hiding the salty liquid escaping from her eyes. "Milady?" Legolas questioned again.

"I am fine." Rodaìn's voice declared. She could not have them worry. They did not need to think her any weaker than she already appeared. She hoped to prove her skill in archery so they would not think her totally helpless. However, she was stuck here, tears slipping down the slopes of her face and the three members of the fellowship gazing concernedly at her. She hoped they would not see her tears. "It was just a silly dream. I thank you for your concern though," Rodaìn dismissed them coldly, turning her head.

Left standing before a slumped figure and a wall of curled hair, Legolas glanced helplessly at Aragorn and Boromir. None seemed overly experienced in handling an obviously hurt woman denying comfort.

Stepping up, Aragorn said, "Of course, milady. I do hope you find peace in your sleep. Please do not be afraid to seek us if you are in need of anything."

Aragorn's offer was met with the slightest of nods and Boromir turned back to the fire to stand guard, leaving Aragorn and Legolas to rest. Neither found sleep easily, however, as the puzzled over Rodaìn's most recent display.


	4. Grubby Hands

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**Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any of the characters or the world of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.**

Rodaìn woke up from a blank sleep. She laid tense and alert, with closed eyes, until the other members of the company aroused from their dreams. _Always pretending. Why worry about trusting others, it is myself they should truly worry about trusting. What a selfish fool. _Rodaìn stiffened even more and exited her deep labyrinthine mind as she heard substantial footsteps aproach her still form.

"Lady Rodaìn," a voice prompted.

Rodaìn's eyes jumped open to view the large and hairy feet of a carrot-haired hobbit. "Good morning Master Took," Rodaìn told the now startled hobbit.

"Good morning, miss. You may call me Pip or Pippin if you would like. Merry and I were about to start on breakfast if you would want to help," Pippin greeted kindly.

Rodaìn smiled at Pippin's invitation. Perhaps it was his seemingly ever-present grin or childishly michevious attitude, but Pippin's character drew Rodaìn in. "I would like that," Rodaìn answered. "I will join you in just a moment, if you would allow me to wash by the river."

"Of course, milady." Pippin turned back to the fire as Rodaìn purposefully made her way to the river. After washing her sparsely freckled face and dampening her frizzled hair, Rodaìn joined him and Merry in the preparation of breakfast.

Following an uneventful breakfast, Rodaìn witnessed Frodo venture into the woods after speaking with Aragorn. She did not know of what he was troubled, but she recognized some of the same tenseness and worried gazes that she often displayed. Aragorn proceeded to train and spar with Merry and Pippin to improve their weaponry skills. Legolas wandered below the towering treetops and Rodaìn ventured back to her isolated area which contained her bedroll and pack.

She continued making new arrows for her shrinking arsenal, carefully sharpening and shaping the tender wood. The flakes of unneeded wood drifted to the ground, sprinkling upon the piles of withering fall leaves on the forest floor.

Over an hour passed, and Rodaìn's fingers were sore from the intricate art of arrow crafting. Aragorn presented Rodaìn with an ample distraction with his concerned realization. "Frodo is not back yet. He should have returned long before now," Aragorn stated, standing from his resting position and capping his water skin.

"Aye, where is Boromir as well?" Merry asked the group.

"Oh no," Aragorn mumbled as he saw Boromir's silver shield gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, alone and abandoned. Aragorn shared a worried look with Legolas.

Rodain slowly walked closer to the gathering as this conversation took place. She had tied her hair back and now carried her ivory-tinted bow on her shoulders. Despite her alterations to her exterior appearance, her interior demeanor displayed itself through her slightly lowered head and unsure yet silent movements forward.

Snapping twigs from the forest distracted the worried company, and they turned to see Boromir emerge from the woods. The branches, painted with leaves of dead goldenrod, vanished behind Boromir's large stature.

"Boromir! Where is Frodo?" Aragorn quickly questioned the newcomer.

With a slightly hesitant voice, Boromir relayed to the group that he had attempted to convince Frodo to take the ring to Minas Tirith. Rodaìn did not particularly understand this information, and looked to the group in question, unsuccessfully seeking to glean explanation from their expressions. Boromir finished his story, stating that him and Frodo then had a quarrel, after which Frodo donned the ring and vanished from sight. This ring, whatever it may be, Rodaìn reasoned, must be highly powerful.

Before any could stop them, the two normally humorous hobbits set off to find their friend Frodo, with grimly concerned expressions. Not wanting the hobbits lost or in danger, Aragorn quickly instructed Boromir to follow the hobbits. Legolas and Gimli swiftly headed off to the eastern section of the forest to search for the hobbit and his valuable possession elsewhere.

Rushed and worried, Aragorn turned to the nearly-ignored Rodaìn and instructed her to stay at the campsite, for the good of her protection. Aragorn proceeded to enter the woods at a sprint in order to recover the lost member of the fellowship.

Rodaìn stood in the clearing in a near daze, but, after hearing the din of a distant battle, disobeyed Aragorn's request. Running through the woods and stumbling over fallen trees and stray stones, Rodaìn easily found her way to the battle scene.

Though she had been forced to take on the occasional orc, Rodaìn was temporarily stunned by the number of orcs engaging in battle with Boromir. She quickly assessed the situation, and brought her bow and a recently made arrow to the crevice of her cheek and shoulder. She was able to fire several shots at the orcs attacking the hobbits. The hobbits, though valiantly fighting and employing skills from their lessons with Aragorn and Boromir, were losing ground and slowly becoming outnumbered. Leaving Boromir to fend for himself, Rodaìn bravely stepped forward to fight for the two hobbits she had felt most comfortable around and welcomed from.

After firing her last few arrows from her limited supply, Rodaìn timidly entered the fray with her dagger. Slashing several wounds on the orcs' molten skin, Rodaìn fought to protect the hobbits, and now herself, as she finally realized the immense danger she had put herself into. Having no armor, she was slashed numerous times by the orcs' crude weapons. The burns of the wounds sharpened Rodaìn's mind and brought her an odd delivery of confidence as she continued to ward off the orcs with the hobbits. No thought of Frodo lingered in Rodaìn's mind any longer. However, she believed the protection of the ringbearer was a sole factor spurring Merry and Pippin's peristent and sharp stabs with their swords.

Despite this effort, the small group proved no match as the orcs crowded their weak targets. Rodaìn noticed with surprise that none of the three fighters, neither she nor the hobbits, had fallen yet. _This is not right. It is like they are drawing this out, to torture us. _As she blocked an orc's attack to her shoulder, Rodain yelped in sudden surprise as her dagger was knocked out of her white-knuckled grip by a previously unseen orc to the right of her.

With the limited use of her hands, Rodain was quickly overpowered and seized by the wrists as the grubby hands of another orc behind her encaptured her sweating fists. Shocked and panicked, Rodain realized she must have drifted from Merry and Pippin. She gasped in pain as an orc with a disfigured left eye and cheek kicked her in her stomach and thighs with his bulky boot. Still, she turned her head back to look for the hobbits. Her eyes widened in fright and pain as she witnessed Merry and Pippin getting thrown over the backs of orcs, as an orc simultaneously pushed her head into a tree, encompassing her vision in hazy waves of black. Thick and probing fingers fixed on her waist and her breath hitched a final time as she was thrown into unconsciousness after her head smacked on the rigid armor covering an orc's magma-like back. She did not hear Boromir's tortured scream. She did not hear Aragorn's frantic whispers. She did not hear Legolas and Gimli's stunned gasps. She did not hear the pleased chatter of the orcs at their latest capture.


	5. Drenched in Wine

**Warning: Violence does appear in this chapter. Please read only if you are comfortable. It occurs in the last paragraphs, but I do not see the violence getting any more graphic later on. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any of the characters or the world of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.**

Hurried shoves and a harshly whispered word nudged Rodaìn out of her blank travels. "Lady Rodaìn. Rodaìn, please." Rodaìn jerked upwards and to view a bleary night. "Miss?"

Rodain turned her dazed vision to the questioning hobbit next to her. "Yes, Pippin? Where are we?" However, as she asked this, the memories of the orc attack clouded her already troubled mind.

"We are at the orc camp, we were captured. Are you injured, Lady Rodaìn?"

Rodaìn reached up to feel her head, but was dismayed as she discovered the rough binding that imprisoned her wrists. As her hands fell back down to her lap, she noticed the painful pressure on her stomach. _I will have to wrap that later. My head is swirling too much right now. Swirling black lines. Changing and shifting. Never what they appear. _Still dizzy, Rodaìn vaguely replied, "I shall live. How are you two?" she questioned Merry and Pippin.

"We are fine, just a bit worried is all. We do not know what they plan to do to us."

"I am sure we shall be able to escape in no time," Rodaìn reassured the hobbits with a faint upward motion on the corners of her chapped lips. She had been observing the camp and immediately noticed the overwhelming number of orcs setting up the site. She was disgusted by them, and began formulating a route of escape. However, she soon realized the impossible quality of such a task. Despite their uncivilized appearance, they kept close watch on their prisoners and campsite.

The orcs finished setting up their camp and the complaints of hungry bodies made themselves known. One of the orcs approached the hobbits, claiming they may make a good meal. Making herself known, Rodaìn defended them, "You shall not disturb them."

"Oh, the little lady knows how to talk. Let's fry her up instead," the orc snickered.

"They are not for eating," one of the orc leaders suddenly and brashly declared. With that, he pulled out his sword and chopped off the snickering orc's head. Rodaìn and the hobbits scooted backwards in fright as the orcs rushed forward to their cannibalistic meal. Limbs were picked and speared to sear over the fires.

The orcs sitting around the fires and waiting for their grotesque meal grew impatient. Rodaìn did not know what to do. She had never been a leader, never one to formulate complex plans. She did have an overly adequate amount of experience sneaking around though. Nearly silent footsteps had developed into an extremely useful habit.

Rodaìn scooted closer to the wide-eyed hobbits, always maintaining a constant watch on the orcs. "Merry. Pippin," she hissed, not wanting to be heard but needing to rouse the two hobbits from their wide-eyed stupor over the orc's gruesome actions.

"Y-yes, miss?" Merry shakily replied. Rodaìn noticed him and Pippin were doing their best to hold hands, despite the ropes that bound them so harshly. She was touched and warmed by such an action, never truly experiencing such a friendship with anyone.

"I think I have figured out a plan for us to escape," she told the halflings, doing her best to hold her voice steady. Merry and Pippin turned their heads to her expectantly, silently urging her to continue. "We can wait until their meal is ready, so they will all find themselves occupied with eating. Then, you two can slowly scoot towards that bush over there and cut your bindings loose," she stated, nodding her head towards a patch of thick foliage near the entrance of the forest and a discarded knife she had noticed early, half-hidden beneath the brambles and dirt of the forest floor. "After you help each other free, run swiftly into the woods. There is only room for the two of you behind that bush, and I shall have to go after you. Do not fear, I shall catch up to you not long after. If I do not, continue running until you find safety." Rodaìn finished telling her plan, but did not tell them the high likelihood that the orcs would quickly notice the disappearance of the hobbits. She did not tell them of the distraction she meant to cause, allowing Merry and Pippin further time to escape. She did not tell the hobbits that it would most likely end in her death.

"What a brilliant idea, Lady Rodaìn," Pippin said, a bit too loudly, drawing the unwanted attention of a three or four orcs.

"Shut up, Pip," Merry whispered and harshly nudged Pippin with his shoulder.

"Ouch, Merry, now what'd you do that for?" Pippin hissed back.

"Shhh, please be quiet," Rodaìn said quietly, discretely casting worried glances between the orcs and herself and the hobbits. "Now, they are just finishing preparing their meal. You must go now, this is when they will be busiest."

"Okay, see you soon, miss," Merry bid farewell to Rodaìn. "Come on, Pip," he urged his cousin along as they scooted closer to the designated bush.

Several seconds after Rodaìn witnessed the hobbits dash to the woods, she struggled to push herself up and gathered the remaining dregs of her courage. "Excuse me, but do you think I could have some food?" Rodaìn asked the orcs, trying her best to sound naïve and with no disgust in her voice.

The majority of the group turned towards Rodaìn, stunned at their captive's question. "Well, the girl is hungry, is she?" an orc with a distinctive limp on his left leg sneered with a smirk, as he struggled upright and began hobbling towards her stiff frame.

Rodaìn resisted the temptation to back away from the crude being of evil approaching her. Sucking in her breath and trying to ease her body, Rodaìn nodded her head.

"Well, maybe you'd like a bit to drink first, some red wine perhaps?" the orc snickered, beckoning her forward. Rodaìn hesitantly started forward, not sure of what trickery they would employ upon her.

She was suddenly shoved from behind by an orc guard and stumbled forward, landing on her stomach as her bound hands twisted beneath her and collied with her injured ribs. Gasping from the pain, she quickly bit down on her lip to barracade a yelp of pain from escaping. Venomous chuckles surrounded her now, as Rodaìn twisted her head to view the amused circle of orcs surrounding her. _It's for the hobbits. It's for Merry and Pippin. They deserve life. I can take it. At least I was not duped and ensared into this pain._

The orcs parted in front of her to reveal the same limping, sneering orc that offered her a drink. Rodaìn held back a cringe as he entered with a trailing vine of glistening thorns, but managed to contain the tremors that begged to ravage her body.

"Now, we always like a bit of fun before our wine, don't we?" the orc questioned the group, holding his stare on Rodaìn's fallen form. He was answered be a series of grunts and anticipated rumbles. Rodaìn did her best to hold the orc's glare, still fighting despite her hindered limbs.

Without warning, Rodaìn saw the orc's arm travel to the sky, the vine of jeweled thorns trailing after it like a snake. Rodaìn instinctively pulled her head inward and downward at the familiar gesture of a raised hand, and was stunned with torment as the metallic whip slashed her prone back and shredded through her cloak and skin with its lance-like shards. The excruciating pain ripped her voice from her body, allowing a sudden cry escape before she crashed her teeth onto her bleeding bottom lip to contain her unwanted display of affliction. Water darted down her dirt-crusted eyelashes and escaped the chaos to be with the grime and filth-laden ground. Three more strikes agonized her tense yet trembling muscles and blood poured forth from the wounds. Rodaìn could not focus on the orcs snickers and whoops. She could only focus on the pain and her desire to save the hobbits from such disastrous pain. _I cannot let another endure this. Not ones so innocent and joy-filled. I can take it. I can hold it._

Laying in pain on her stomach with her wrists still twisted beneath her, and her back burning with the bloody stings of four torturous lashes, Rodaìn received an odd feeling of relief from the pain that had erupted. She had taken it on. She had saved the hobbits.

An orc from the sidelines grunted and then questioned. "Now where'd the two halflings go, they'd make some good entertainment. Bring the halflings in!" he shouted. A cacophony of shouts echoed after this statement, but died down then grew to a new crescendo at the discovery of the missing hobbits.

"The girl! She distracted them so that they could get away!" an orc deducted.

"Oh, girl you'll pay for this one now won't you. You'll pay for this one," the limping orc growled as he readied his murderous whip again with a burning hate in his opaque black eyes. Rodaìn could not watch any longer. Not being a complete coward, she turned her gaze downward and stared at the blood-splattered ground, drenched in a deep maroon cloak. The ground that reflected and absorbed the vital liquid, the rich wine of the body. The orcs had not yet drank their fill.


End file.
